


come over later and we won't let no one close to us

by lisa6



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew's in love and overwhelmed, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, M/M, POV Andrew Minyard, basically andrew and neil being very in love and v careful and v sweet and v horny, idk if this is ooc this is my first time writing tfc but i tried, tw: mentions of past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 22:52:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15895776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisa6/pseuds/lisa6
Summary: Andrew has a lot of feelings and a lot of thoughts.





	come over later and we won't let no one close to us

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this might be ooc and i wrote this within an hour or so and haven't proofread (+ i'm german so the chance that there might be a few grammar/spelling mistakes is pretty high) but i was once again overcome by my love for these boys and somehow it turned into smut??? 
> 
> anyway thank you for reading and please let me know what u think! <3

The sun’s creeping into the room, golden rays finding their way in through half-drawn curtains.

It can't be much later than eight in the morning and Andrew really doesn't feel like getting up yet, but he loses the fight. He opens his eyes, blinks, sees Neil still asleep next to him — somehow too close and too far away — and closes them again. Until he can’t anymore. Until he has to look. Until the sun turning his eyelids a bright red;a cartoon version of Neil’s auburn hair.

So Andrew looks at Neil the way Neil looks at him, the way he’d roll his eyes at and mutter a quiet, annoyed, “Staring.” As if he wasn’t doing the same thing every chance he got, insatiable and desperate for Neil’s sharp eyes, usually cool but soft around him and blue as the ocean. Which, really, should’ve been a dead giveaway back then when Neil had been an outsider, a threat — how foolish of Andrew to think that the only secrets eyes like that held were the ones Neil confessed to him during his first year at Palmetto. How foolish of him to take him to Columbia and expect that to be enough. How foolish of him to lie in bed with this boy and try to ignore the warmth spreading in the pit of his stomach.

Andrew closes his eyes again when he can’t bear it anymore. Neil’s nose, small and just upturned enough to give the illusion of innocence, the soft lips capable of spewing remarks biting enough to keep Andrew’s interest, his thick lashes that try to but never can hide twinkling blue when Neil’s eyes are heavy-lidded, glued to Andrew when he’s sucking his cock or slowly getting fucked into the mattress.

Neil’s sighing, quiet but with a little voice laced through the breath, enough for Andrew to hear his baritone, deep when he’s pissed off or horny, higher and raspier when he’s running his mouth or whispering words dirty and sweet enough to make Andrew shiver. 

He’s getting hard. He feels the heat pooling in his stomach spread through his insides, run through his veins all the way to the tips of his fingers and his toes, feels it tighten the muscles in his arms and stomach, feels it loosening his carefully knotted control.

Andrew turns his head, opens his eyes, stares at Neil’s mouth, his chin, remembers what he looks like with cum dripping from his face — Neil’s eyes bright, playful, as he tilts his head to run his wet tongue over his reddened bottom lip, its pink tip coated by milky white just for a second, before it’s back in his mouth, before his throat works.

Breathing becomes harder for Andrew. He wants to jerk off, wants to curl his fingers around his dick, pull at it, press his thumb against the slit, wants to watch it drip on Neil again, wants even more to hear Neil moan with his voice gone all soft and pretty, lust coloring the tips of his ears, his cheeks, his shoulders, his chest. Wants to feel Neil’s ass clench around him, his fucking legs wrapped around Andrew’s hips, not running for once but holding still, holding Andrew still, holding him close, wanting him to stay close.

Andrew doesn’t get it, never does, how anyone could ever want to be this close to him. No one else does either. He knows that after Baltimore things have changed between the Foxes. There’s a little more trust, a little more ... more. But he still sees Dan and Matt exchange those fucking glances when Andrew’s spiraling again and Neil’s with him despite of it. He sees Aaron’s expressions when Neil’s drunk and presses up against him in public, running his tongue along Andrew’s lips. He sees Allison purse her lips when Neil’s wearing one of Andrew’s shirts. Still sees Seth’s face the first time he saw him leave with Roland.

Not that he gives a fuck about what any of them think. It’s just that he’s often thinking along the same lines, when Neil’s all cute, rubbing his nose against his jaw when they’re in bed but still too awake — or too fucked up — to just fall asleep. Or when Andrew sees the way Neil’s hands still clench possessively around the key he gave him all those months ago, hard enough that if must hurt.

“Andrew.”

Andrew blinks. It takes him a second to realize it was Neil who said that, not just his voice in Andrew’s head.

“Staring,” Neil says, quietly, voice sugary sweet, eyes soft and warm. Andrew never thought blue could feel warm. It feels warmer than his brown. Not that that’s much of a surprise. Just, strange. Theoretically. 

“You were snoring.”

Neil smiles. It’s a very slow process, and it’s a very hard smile. “Wasn’t. Runaway and all that. Gotta be quiet.”

“Is that,” Andrew says, “morally acceptable? To bring this up as an argument?”

“Are you questioning morals? How far we’ve come.”

“Fuck off.”

Neil blinks, smiles wider. His eyes keep flitting over Andrew’s body. “You’re hard.”

“Fuck off,” Andrew says, a little more bitingly.

Neil stretches, rubs his face against the pillow, then looks back up at Andrew. “What sort of fuck off is it?”

Andrew watches him. “It’s a yes fuck off.”

“Good,” Neil says against the silk. He looks fucking hot between Andrew’s sheets, Andrew thinks. “I really wanna be fucked, Andrew. I really wanna— you look so good right now. Your dick’s— I.You’re— god. Still yes?”

“I want to see what you’ve just said written on paper.”

Neil laughs. His voice cracks somewhere in the middle. Andrew shifts closer.

“Sorry. All I can think about is you on top of me. Inside me. I just—"

"I got the idea," Andrew says when it all becomes too much, when he feels his feelings for Neil starting to overflow to the point where he thinks they might show on the surface.

Neil's face grows softer. He moves until he's closer to Andrew, waits for Andrew's nod, then moves closer still, until they're pressed skin to skin, muscle to muscle, heartbeat to heartbeat. Neil leans forward as Andrew slides his arm underneath Neil's head and bends it so that he can tangle his fingers into Neil's hair. Neil, now nestled in the crook of Andrew's arm, turns his head to press a soft kiss to his bicep, then turns it again to press one to his collarbone, then his shoulder, a couple to his throat, then his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, smiles when Andrew's lips move slightly with it, turns his head a little more and presses another one right on top of them. Smiles a little more when Andrew's other hand is suddenly at his throat, thumb hooked under Neil's chin to tilt it for better access, and pushes against him, breathes in, breathes out, pushes more.

Neil moans against his lips, a quiet sound Andrew wouldn't even have heard if he weren't so close to him. He feels his heart beat faster, pumping more blood through his body, making more of it fill his dick.

"Neil," Andrew murmurs against his lips.

"Mhm."

"Touch me."

Neil's eyes open. They're wide. This close, Neil looks a bit like an alien. His breath keeps fanning over Andrew's face. Andrew could count all of Neil's lashes if he wanted to, top and bottom. He can see every single scar Neil has on his face. Tries to find something he doesn't like, because that's just the kind of shit person he is, but comes up empty. Finds it uncomfortable to think about how comfortable he is this close to another human being.

"Yeah?" Neil asks. "Where do you want my hands?"

"My back," Andrew says, moving in so he's half-leaning over Neil. He presses a kiss to Neil's nose as Neil's hands let go of the sheets and instead mold around Andrew's shoulder blades, blunt nails dragging across pale skin. "My neck," Andrew continues, peppering soft kisses onto the skin below Neil's ear. Neil breathes out. "My ribs. My stomach. My dick. I don't give a fuck, just stay away from my ass."

"You sure?"

Andrew just lifts his head to stare at Neil blankly before dropping it again, licking acrossthe dip between Neil's throat and collarbone.

"Okay," Neil says, sounding breathless. "Tell me if you change your mind."

"I will if you keep making a big deal out of it."

Andrew knows it's a big deal, for both of them, but he doesn't want to talk about it, because he doesn't want to think about it, because this is supposed to be between them and if they talk about it it becomes a thing between them and Drake, and Proust, and all the other fucking assholes Andrew has had the displeasure of meeting and fuck, he wants Neil, all he wants is Neil.

"Okay. Okay, fine."   
  
"Neil."

"Yeah. What? You o—"

"Can you relax."

"Probably." A pause. "Yes."

Andrew brushes the pad of his thumb along Neil's cheekbone, watches his eyes flutter in response. He's always liked pretty things. "Undress."

Neil breathes in, stares back into Andrew's eyes, and reaches down, his hands disappearing underneath the sheets. There's a lot of fumbling and rustling before he drops his hands next to his head onto the pillow again. Andrew blinks at the curl of his bicep, the twitching fingers, the unshakable control.

"You can touch me still."

"Okay," Neil says again.

Andrew dips his head, running his hand down Neil's chest while Neil's fingertips travel along the sharp edge of his jaw. Neil keens when Andrew's hand closes around his dick, thumb pressing against his sensitive head softly. "I'm going to blow you. Yes or no?"

"Yes, oh, fuck." Neil looks up at the ceiling, grinning, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand.

"Don't," Andrew says as he shifts down on the bed until he's between Neil's legs. Neil's hand falls away, and so does one of his knees to make room for Andrew while his other leg rises with his foot propped up on Andrew's shoulder.

"The others are outside."

"You know I can't fucking shut up when you're— ohh, shit, shit."

Andrew lets Neil's dick fall out of his mouth, grips the base, sinks down on it again, curls his tongue, runs its tip over the veins, kisses the flushed head. Neil's back arches.

"Fuck," he pants.

Andrew covers Neil's foot with his other hands, brushes his thumb over Neil's ankle, moves his head until Neil's dick touches the back of his throat, doesn't gag. He breathes in through his nose, swallows around Neil, moves his tongue, presses closer, runs his hand up Neil's leg to his calf, listens to Neil's broken moans.

"Andrew, fuck, oh god, fuck."

Andrew furls his eyebrows as he moves back a little, shivers with the feeling of Neil's dick rubbing against the insides of his mouth, breathes in the scent of him. He lets his hand fall back around Neil's ankle again, then lower, would smile at the feeling of Neil's toes curling if he didn't have a mouth full of dick right now.

There's a hand in his hair suddenly, very gently running through it.

Andrew likes it, really likes it, almost as much as he likes it when Neil sucks on his neck, so, in gratitude, he removes his mouth from Neil's dick and instead licks down its back, closes his mouth around his balls and holds his dick against the side of his face at the same time. Shuts his eyes, shivers, shivers more when Neil moans louder.

Fuck, this is a mess.

"Andrew. Andrew, I'm— fuck, I'm so close. Don't stop."

Andrew almost does, just because Neil said it, just to be an asshole, but this is Neil and his dick and Andrew really likes both of them, so. He sinks down on it again, curls his arms around Neil's hips (not to keep them still — they do that on their own — but to be closer to him, anything to be closer to him) and wants to bring his dick to the back of his throat again but before he can do that, Neil's already coming, body trembling and head tilted backwards, hands around Andrew's shoulders, sounds that Andrew is in love enough not to call whimpers leaving his mouth.

He sits up, still hard as fuck, hands caressing Neil's thighs, his stomach. Neil stares at his erection once he's calmed down, reaches out to catch Andrew's hands and intertwine their fingers.

"Do you want to—"

"No, not today."

"Okay."

Andrew exhales, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks down at Neil. "You look a mess."

Neil blinks up at him. "I wouldn't say no to nice company in the shower."

"You could."

"I know," Neil says. "I want you to shower with me, though. If you want to, too, that is."

"I want nothing."

Neil's grinning now. Andrew squeezes his hands. "Okay."

"Okay," Andrew says, then uses the grip he has on Neil's hands to pull him up.


End file.
